


Don't You Feel This Feeling?

by Enelii



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confused Ross, Don't do this, Fluff, M/M, Oh gosh Smith, Trooooott, What am I going to do with you, a lot of feelings, implied depression, poor communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enelii/pseuds/Enelii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, it’s supposed this was the norm now; Smith trying to fall asleep, but instead being kept awake by the constant thoughts of, well, basically Smith’s emotional undoing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Feel This Feeling?

Well, it’s supposed this was the norm now; Smith trying to fall asleep, but instead being kept awake by the constant thoughts of, well, basically Smith’s emotional undoing.

It wasn’t entirely Smith’s fault, as overthinking wasn’t exactly a conscious decision, but he still blamed himself. In his position, how could you not? When a person was distancing themselves from you, with no word of warning or reason, surely you’d ask yourself what you did wrong.

So now Alex Smith’s huddled on his side, cocooned in his covers, desperately trying to stop the ridiculous amount of thinking his brain was forcing onto him, trying to sleep away his worries. Though he knew he’d remember in the morning.

\---

Smith woke, blinking his sleepy eyes. The best part of his day was just waking up – to no worries, no instant reminders of the day before (or the night previous) and just being in ignorant bliss.

This never lasted long, however, as when he sat up, running a hand through his messy bed-hair, he heard commotion from downstairs. Smith groaned as he had his daily reminder of what he’ll have to deal with, the memories from the previous day hitting him hard.

He swivelled his hips so he sat on the edge of his bed, covers a mess across his side and the bed. It was always a mystery to Smith how he got the covers so muddled each night, but that wasn’t the thing he was losing sleep on. He’d have to face that in the next five minutes.

Smith rubbed his face and got up to drape his dressing gown around himself. _Damn these cold winter mornings,_ he grumbled to himself as he trudged down the stairs, still slightly unsteady from just waking. When Smith reached the kitchen, he was greeted by Ross standing by a boiling kettle.

“Mornin’, mate.” Ross said casually. “Heard you get up so I put the kettle on for you.”

“Thanks, Ross.” Smith smiled. It was always nice to have people looking out for you, no matter how small the gesture.

Smith leaned against the counter by the mug and tea bag Ross had collected for him. “Trott…?” Smith went to ask.

“Went the shops, mate. We need more bread.”

Smith nodded and looked at the now whistling kettle. Well, at least a little longer without any problems arising, then.

Once the kettle clicked its completion, Smith carried out his normal routine for his preferred tea, and once finished, Smith once again leaned against the counter, but holding the hot tea close to his face, the warmth a welcomed feeling in the cold kitchen.

Ross had previously prepared his hot beverage, and was sipping the warm liquid whilst Smith was waiting for his to cool. They stood in a comfortable silence, the dull morning sun filtering through half-opened blinds to give the simple kitchen a light and calm atmosphere; perfect for waking one’s self up with some soothing tea.

Smith’s mind started wandering. It always starts out harmless, simple thoughts gently rippling into different ideas or concepts, yet his thoughts always spiral back to the subject that makes him so happy yet so confused at the same time.

“Hey Trott!” Ross yelled his greeting as he heard the front door bang and click.

_Well, time to try again._

Trott walked into the doorway of the kitchen, a Sainsbury’s bag hooked over his forearm.

“Hey Ross. Smith.” Trott looked at them both in order, a smile across his face.

_A good day? Are we on good terms again?_

“Hi Trott,” Smith mumbled from behind his tea. He glanced at the bag, there was more than just bread in there. “What’s in the bag?”

Trott chuckled his ever so sweet laugh. “Interrogating me, Smith? At least let me in the door first, mate.”

“Hmm,” Smith took another sip of his tea. Trott’s smile seemed disingenuous. _Or maybe not?_

As Trott put down the Sainsbury’s bag on the dining table, Ross immediately started rooting through it.

“Aw nice, Trott! Haven’t had a Kinder Bueno in ages!” Ross exclaimed, pulling out the little packet of chocolates.

“Well I just saw them and thought ‘Why not?’” Trott smiled, genuinely. “A little treat, eh?”

Smith didn’t bother going over to the shopping, he doubted Trott had got anything special for him. He had stopped doing little things like that recently. (And of course Smith had to notice.) But he couldn’t say anything – ‘ _not yet, at least’_ he had promised himself.

Ross had started placing the few tid-bits Trott had collected into nearby cupboards whilst Trott was fiddling on his phone. Noticing he’d finished his tea, Smith decided to head upstairs. He feared it was just him, but the atmosphere had curved into uncomfortable. Better to spend time in his bedroom where he wouldn’t be in the way.

Back in his bedroom, with the curtains still drawn, Smith thumped onto his muddle of covers, finding comfort in the dim light.

His mind instantly went off to venture about Trott, despite having gone over this _many_ times before.

 _So Trott didn’t get me anything, again…_ Smith shook his head. _No, maybe there just wasn’t anything there? But… Trott would have at least mentioned it, surely._

Smith sighed and put his head in his hands. Maybe Trott had noticed? ‘Cause, Smith knew he was acting differently, so maybe Trott knew and wanted nothing to do with it. That’s reasonable, at least. Smith could understand… He thinks. But Trott’s such an understanding man, wouldn’t he want to discuss it with Smith? Maybe not about _that,_ in case he was wrong, but at least about the weird behaviour? Maybe he’ll talk to Trott when Trott’s on one of his good days – wait, not yet. Smith hadn’t even come to terms with his feelings yet, never mind trying to resolve something that may just complicate things further.

Smith fell onto his back. The whole scenario was ridiculous. Smith knows he’s being ridiculous, but there’s no filter (or even better, a ‘stop’ switch) to these thoughts and feelings. By not trying to trip up around Trott, he’s having to tread incredibly carefully to not say something he’d regret. Because of that, he’s had to cut down on the flirting – which was actually a big issue, as that’s how Smith usually breaks the ice and relaxes around people. Meaning now he’s even more on edge around Trott than necessary. Brilliant.

Smith sighed again, rubbing his face. None of this ever helped. He needed to distract this thoughts. What better way than to mindlessly watch shitty daytime TV?

As Smith got off the bed, he decided to clean up his room a bit. Meaning just opening the curtains, shaking the covers a little, and kicking any clothes from yesterday into a pile by his desk. _Oh, clothes, that’d be a good idea._

When Smith had finished getting dressed, (pulling on trousers and a hoodie; seemed no one had put the heating on) Smith trudged down the stairs to the empty living room.

Slumped comfortably on the couch, he reached for the remote and turned on the TV. Any channel would do; anything that wouldn’t get him to think any more of his situation than he already has.

Smith let his mind be washed over by the dull ramblings of whatever program he happened to land on. There was something about a club, confusion, and a hell of a lot of conflict.

After an unknown amount of time, Trott entered the room, face inches away from his laptop screen. Smith’s head instantly turned towards the figure, but Trott paid him no mind. Smith’s eyes followed Trott as he crossed the room and sat down on the very end of the couch, away from Smith.

_Don’t you dare. Stop._

Smith fought with himself to turn back to the TV. But after a while, he started glancing. He didn’t mean to, he just couldn’t help it. Quick, subtle movements of the eye to get a look at Trott’s features. It was obvious he was editing; his face was one of concentration, his brows slightly furrowed. His right hand clicking furiously on the USB connected mouse, resting on the arm of the couch on an overdue library book ( _so that’s why he sat on the end_ ). Why he was editing on his laptop, Smith didn’t know. Maybe the usual computer had a fault? Well, whatever the reason, Smith wasn’t told of it.

Smith’s gaze started lingering without him realising, only the sounds of the TV filling his ears, but not being comprehended. He started outlining Trott’s features in his mind, admiring how Trott’s face fitted so perfectly together; his beautiful deep chocolate eyes, his charmingly shaped nose, his full lips, even how his eyebrows suited him. Not to mention his hair. God, what a lovely rich shade of brown his thick hair was.

All this staring triggered a heat to blossom in his chest, and Smith swelled with emotion and want. But, loneliness plagued him too. Trott was sitting just under half a meter away. Why did he feel so empty, so alone?

_God, I love him so much._

These words were planted firmly in Smith’s mind, and whilst he used the ‘L’ word frequently to describe his feelings, Smith still didn’t know what the hell that meant. It’s such a scary concept, but it’s the easiest one to use. So overused as well. Smith doesn’t know if it’s too little or too much of a statement to make, because he can’t accurately gauge his feelings. Smith just doesn’t know; whatever it is, it’s something. And it’s so deeply affecting him.

Smith then snapped out of his daydream and quickly faced the TV once more. How stupid could he be? If Trott felt eyes on him, he could have so easily turned to look at Smith, and how awkward would that have been? The tension would have been increased dramatically, and Trott would have probably drifted away even more.

Trott _didn’t_ notice though, and Smith enjoyed looking at Trott’s intense concentration face. Maybe Trott didn’t notice because of editing? Probably in ‘the zone’ or something. _God that man works himself hard._ Fondness involuntarily spread across Smith’s features. _He’s so hardworking, and I really admire that side to him; but he should really ensure he gets enough rest, too… I could ensure that. Nope, stop it Smith. Not going to happen. Zero chance. No._

Smith looked down at his lap. He and Trott hadn’t actually discussed sexuality, though. Well, Trott knew Smith wasn’t straight (bisexual was closest, but labels are overrated) but Smith didn’t know about Trott. Despite knowing what was likely, that stupid little fact kept Smith’s hope chugging on, and it hurt. Only hurt could come out of this (more so than what has already been felt).

Smith felt guilt twinge his gut. Thinking all of this when the man in question was in the room. Trott didn’t need this burden, as well as the stress of work, and bills, and just life in general. It wasn’t Smith’s choice, though. It wasn’t conscious and damn if it wasn’t hard to stop. It’s too difficult to stop, so Smith has to deal with it. Trott shouldn’t have to though. Smith feels as though he’d failed Trott as a friend, he’d stepped over the boundaries of friendship, and can’t return. Even though Trott doesn’t know, he’d still betrayed him.

_I’m sorry, Trott._

With one final glance at Trott, still working away with no notion of what Smith was currently battling, Smith ran his hand through his hair and stood up. It hurt that Trott didn’t notice. It felt so obvious, how can he not? Smith left the room, credits rolling over the forgotten TV screen. Maybe Trott would appreciate the background noise.

Smith lingered in the doorway, not knowing what to do. His room felt safe, but he needed to get out the house. He went to his room, grabbed his phone, earphones, coat and keys, and promptly left through the front door.

Smith shut the door behind him and shrugged on his coat. After locking the door he slipped the keys into his pocket. No need to shout he was going out; he wouldn’t want to disturb the lads anyway.

With his earphones in his ears, and set his playlist to shuffle. It didn’t matter what came on, he just needed something to keep him occupied.

The chill of the early afternoon kept Smith’s attention sharp as he started to wander through familiar streets. His thoughts continued to drift, but he tried to focus on the music. He turned it up as loud as it could go to try and avoid unwanted thoughts. It didn’t matter if it hurt his ears, it felt as though it helped in some odd way.

Smith eventually found his way onto a bustling street with a row of shops. People walked with purpose from shop to shop, along the street, ignoring anyone who didn’t fit in with their schedule.

Smith felt out of place, meandering through small gatherings of teenagers, passing shoppers and watching speeding cars whizz by on the road. Despite knowing the geography of this area, he still felt lost, empty. He hated it, not knowing what his purpose was, and wanted to walk in solitude again. These people reminded him of the subject he wanted to forget.

\---

After two hours of walking through seemingly desolate streets, Smith found himself back at his front door. He stood there for a while, just staring at the weather-worn door. The sky was clouded, grey, and the temperature was more than a bit chilly now; Smith’s hands were shoved into his pockets for warmth, but without a hat Smith’s ears were cherry red from the cold.

It would be warmer inside, but Smith couldn’t bring himself to get the keys and open the door. His fingers brushed his keys in his pocket, but he didn’t make an attempt to grab them.

When his current song faded away, Smith took one last look to the dreary, yet calming sky and finally pushed the key into the lock. Stepping inside Smith felt a wave of warmth wash over him. He felt numb.

With the door shut and his keys now on the side, Smith peeked into the living room. No Trott. And the TV was off.

Smith didn’t want to wonder where he was. Hearing noises from the kitchen, Smith stuck his head around the door. He saw Ross with his head in the fridge.

Smith turned to leave.

“…Smith?”

Smith stepped fully into the kitchen.

“Where have you been, mate? You left without a word.” _Well, at least Ross noticed. More than Trott, probably._

“I just… Needed to get out. I had a walk round, that’s all.”

“Okay. ‘S just me and Trott were a bit worried – usually you mention if you’re leaving for a bit.”

“Wait, uh, Trott was?” Smith felt hopeful.

“Yeah,” Ross frowned. “You been alright, mate? You’ve been really reserved lately.”

“Yeah yeah, no, I’m fine.” Smith tried to shrug it off.

“Right,” Ross wasn’t convinced. “Mate, you can tell me if something’s up, you know. Has something happened with Trott?”

Smith looked flustered. “No, no! I’m fine, honest.” Smith gave a forced chuckle and looked towards the floor tiles.

Ross sighed. “Well, something’s up, and I don’t mind if you don’t want to discuss it. Just, know I’m here for you, yeah? Now come here.”

Ross walked towards Smith with open arms. Smith stayed awkwardly in the doorway, but embraced Ross when he came over. As his arms encircled Ross, he felt a barrage of emotions crash down onto him. He so needed to cry. The immediate reason was unclear, but he definitely needed to cry.

As Ross let go of Smith, he looked him in the face, and saw the tears forming in Smith’s now red eyes.

“Oh, Smith,” sighed Ross, pity and care evident in his voice and face. He hugged Smith again, and Smith was grateful for the comfort. He clutched him close, and heard himself sob into Ross’ shoulder. Smith was incredibly appreciative of Ross and his concern over him, Ross was a huge reassurance to Smith that he wasn’t truly alone, but a piece of him still felt empty. He knew he wanted Trott to be here, to hold him, to be soothed by him, to just have him near him and Trott notice how much he’s hurting. He needed Chris.

Smith tried to quickly gather up his emotions and broke his hug with Ross, rubbing his eyes intently to try to somehow rub away his feelings and embarrassment.

“S-sorry,” Smith sniffed.

“Mate, don’t worry about it, whatever it is, you’re not alone. I’ll be here to listen; that’s what friends are for, yeah?” Ross’ face was serious.

“Yeah, thanks Ross. I mean it.” Smith smiled a sad smile, and went to walk up to his room.

With his head down, Smith didn’t notice Trott emerging from his bedroom as soon as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Oh, there you are – Smith?”

Smith had calmed down, but his eyes where still red and swollen from the tears, it was very apparent he had been crying. He couldn’t reply, he started to get chocked up again, and retreated quickly into his room, half-heartedly closing the door behind him.

Whilst he had moved, Trott had had a look of confusion and (Smith hoped) a sincere look of worry on his face. Smith sat on the middle of his bed with his back towards the door.

There was a small knock on the door.

“Smith?”

Smith still couldn’t answer.

“Mate, can I come in?” His voice was low and cautious.

This was all the more confusing, why’s Trott being nice? What’s with the mood change? It’s what Smith wanted, but, why now?

Smith had his head in his hands as Trott tentatively stepped into the room.

“What’s the matter?”

Smith’s breathing was ragged.

Smith heard Trott take a couple of steps closer to the bed.

His hands started trembling slightly.

“Alex?”

Smith screwed shut his eyes and shook his head furiously.

“W-why?” Smith’s voice was a whisper.

Trott blinked a few times. “What?”

“What is this? I… It’s so confusing!” Smith’s voice was trembling with his frustration.

“Smith, I uh, don’t understand.”

Smith looked up at his ceiling, the corners of his lips being pulled down by some unknown force. “… I don’t either.” He said, quietly.

Trott looked bewildered by all this, and stood not knowing what to do.

“Well, can you tell me why you’re so upset?”

“It… You don’t… You won’t…” Smith let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his face with both hands.

It couldn’t be done like this. This was too messy of a situation. Trott would only be freaked out, and may get really defensive. He wouldn’t be able to get the correct words out to explain himself, and Trott may get the wrong idea or have reasons for his actions and could start shouting. This couldn’t end well.

“Soon.” Smith finally got out. He turned to look at Trott standing, fiddling with his hands near the door. “Soon, I promise.”

And with that, Trott nodded, and recognising Smith needed space, left.

Smith groaned to himself and fell backwards onto his bed, rubbing his face once more, he thought how awfully that situation went and what an idiot he was. _I need to sort myself out and get a grip. Stop being an idiot and deal with this. The sooner, the better._

Smith hadn’t had any food today, but he couldn’t go downstairs for dinner. He couldn’t face either of his friends and the dilemma he’d caused. He’d let the two discuss it between themselves for now. Good job he wasn’t hungry anyway.

\---

A few weeks had passed and now it was New Year’s Eve. Within in those few weeks everything had gone back to ‘normal’, as it was, but a heavy tension hung ugly in the air. Trott had gone back to being on and off, Smith carried on pretending, overthinking and trying oh, so hard to converse and be good to Trott (unfortunately his efforts were not rewarded), but Ross started to keep an eye on Smith, making sure Smith knew he was there for him. Smith was grateful of the gesture, but didn’t (couldn’t) act on it.

Christmas had passed, and like every year, the three went to celebrate it with their families. But whilst the three usually gave presents to each other on the same day, Trott was the only one to give Ross his slightly later, and leave Smith with only the empty promise of a present. It stung, as it usually did if it involved Trott, but Smith tried not to get too hung up on it. Besides, today was the day he had promised himself he would clear up this mess with Trott. Come clean, and see how Trott reacted. Because the situation had been going on for far too long, and it wasn’t doing any good for Smith’s health.

\---

Currently Smith was seated in the back of Ross’ car, being driven to Ross’ friend’s house for a New Year’s Eve party. Smith had never met the person, but wasn’t focusing on the party or its host at all. He’d been feeling anxious all day, and his subject of thought was sitting in the front of the car, next to Ross. Smith tried to look out of the window, to skim the quickly passing houses of an area he hasn’t much been, to try to repress the uncomfortable feeling. He vaguely processed the mild chatter of Ross and Trott, but focused more on the blur of passing cars, and the butterflies building in his gut.

Eventually, Ross’ car pulled up on the pavement, jolting Smith out of his daydream. As all three stepped out of the car, the bitter night wind wrapped around Smith, causing him to hurry towards the already lively looking house. Music and lights filtered through windows, and Smith wasn’t looking forward to the crowded rooms and the unnecessary excitement of New Year’s Eve. But he followed Ross and Trott anyway; this night was either going to go amazingly well, or atrociously bad.

\---

When Smith had first entered the living room, he’d tried to stay with Ross and Trott, but the room was bustling with already tipsy guests, so it had made it difficult. Ross was mingling with the people he was already familiar with and despite Smith’s best efforts to keep an eye on Trott, he kept disappearing through the crowds.

Smith ended up stood in a corner of the main room, sipping his offered beer with closed body language. No one really approached him, a few had looked him over, but he paid no notice. He seemed almost casual, but didn’t feel it. He was really on edge.

_Ross and Trott seem to be having fun, though. I’m glad._

He half hoped Trott would be drunk when the dreaded conversation arose. At least then there’d be a chance Trott would forget the whole thing if it went wrong – which Smith proposed was very likely. Smith had decided to keep a clear head himself, though. So he did his best to make this one beer last.

Finally all the commotion and blasting music got to be too much for Smith, so he squeezed through the lively crowds and eventually found the back garden. It was nearing midnight now, so people were gathering in the front garden to set off fireworks and wave to other celebratory neighbours.

As Smith found himself back in the biting night air, he decided to just lean against the back wall of the house. The garden was somewhat well maintained, but there was no pride in the arrangement. Smith didn’t much care.

The very few people outside with Smith were filtering back inside the house now, and Smith was thankful for the seclusion – well, as much as he could get with the party going on within the building behind him. Smith looked up into the unusually clear December sky. A few moments later Smith heard the chanting of the countdown, and then cheering and the first firework explosion. Well, now it was an unusually clear January sky.

The night sky always made Smith feel at peace, letting his mind be at ease despite the anxiety he was feeling. Now every so often the sky and the surrounding garden would blink different colours from the fireworks, leaving Smith contented with just watching, trying to prolong the time until he would face Trott.

_Happy New Year,_

“Smith?”

Smith’s head spun around to the doorway, and saw Trott stepping out of the kitchen. Trott made his way, slightly cautiously, towards Smith. “Happy New Year, mate.” He said with a smile as he stood beside Smith.

Smith gave him a sad smile, as he knew what was coming.

_Do it now._

“Happy New Year. But, uh, Trott mate. I need to talk to you.”

Trott’s smile dipped so that now his face was one of worry, but care.

_Oh thank God Trott’s on a good day._

“Is this the, uh, ‘soon’ thing?”

“Basically, yeah.”

The silence between the two was heavy, despite the music and fireworks sounding loud in their ears.

Smith didn’t know where to start, he’d gone over this numerous times, but he’d always struggled with the starting sentence.

“Okay,” Smith finally forced out. “This is…” He sighed. This was going to be so much harder than he thought. “Just, bear with me as I go through this, okay? That’s all I ask.”

Trott nodded, eyes focused and listening intently. But his gaze was soft, allowing Smith to take his time and work this out.

Smith took a deep breath. “So, I’ve been… acting weirdly lately, to say the least. I’ve been reserved, anxious, clueless… And I’m sorry to say that you’re the reason. Now before you say anything, I want to clarify, I don’t want you to think I’m yelling at you, because I’m not. I’m just going to try to explain what I’ve been going through for… a pretty long while now. I think it started about a year ago, and I changed slightly. I’ll go into that a bit more later if you’re still willing to listen. But I started to get into the habit of overthinking, and creating more problems than necessary. Then… something happened to us. I really don’t think I’m overreacting, because _something_ is up. There have been times when everything is normal, we’d have a great chat, have a laugh, and everything would be fine. But those times have such long gaps between them, and it really sucks for me – for you, I have no idea.

“Because of those silences, you’ve warmed up to Ross more. Now obviously you’re gonna talk to whoever you want – I can’t, and won’t stop you. But because you’ve become that much closer to Ross, I feel like an outcast. Like, Ross is great, I love the twat to pieces, and I understand why you’d talk to him more; he’s easy to talk and joke to, he always has _something_ to say, something to show you… But because you do more shit with Ross, you… kinda blank me now? Like, you’ll buy (just) him little treats, play with his hair, and,” Smith looked at the floor and breathed “ _God I’m so petty,”_ Then looked up and carried on: “I’ll be sitting there like ‘you could play with my hair.’” Smith gave a short forced laugh, but there was pain in his eyes.

“Now, because of that, I’ve grown a little jealous of Ross. He’s so easy-going, something I’ve forgotten how to be lately, and you’ve really warmed up to him. I’m jealous of that, and because I miss you.

“I’m confused, hurt, frustrated, because you’re ignoring me. I’m sorry if this is hard hitting, but I need you to realise what I’ve been feeling. Trott, I love you, our friendship, and I don’t know what I’m doing or how to deal with this mess. I’m overthinking every little thing you do, but whilst I create more stress, some things become clearer. I want you, but you’re fucking dragging me along by a string, playing with my feelings if you don’t already know. You may have been ignorant to what I’ve been going through, but you could at least be nice…” Smith sighed and shook his head. He’s already said some things that could be interpreted as something more than platonic affection, but he can’t stop now.

“I’m always backing you up to others, bigging you up, when you hardly give to me. I guess it’s debatable whether I do give to you, but I feel as though I do. I don’t get you. I don’t understand you, or your way of thinking. I _want_ to understand, I _want_ to be able to have an idea of how you think and act, because you’re so valuable to me, I value our friendship. You mean so much to me, and whilst I may not express it openly due to being fucking _terrified_ of screwing things up, you just completely confuse me.

“I feel like I always have to tip-toe around you, but I want to be more confident, to say more stupid shit like I used to. I’m saying all this about you, but how can I assume anything of you? You’ve got your own views and I should just stop being an idiot and sort myself out, but it’s _so fucking hard,_ you know?” Trott had a blank expression on his face, still taking all this in. Smith felt like he needed to cry.

“And like, (on the rare occasion) when you do talk to me, or show me random shit on your phone, it sounds ridiculous, but I’m over the fucking moon. Even if you say, I don’t know… ‘Look, a cute kitten’ and show me your phone for a few seconds, it just makes my fucking day.

“I know you can’t talk to me all the time, but I try, I really fucking try, so maybe give a little too? Is that so much to ask? Like even if you talk about nothing, I’ll listen. I’ll be here. I’ve been doing it for years now, Trott, why would I stop now? I… God I don’t know. I’m frustrated so I’m rambling. I just want us to be how we were. Happy, together.” Smith’s voice finally broke on the last word, leaving him looking, pleading into Trott’s eyes for him to understand.

Trott still had a blank expression, but finally looked down to the floor, thinking. After a painfully long few seconds, Trott asked: “How… do you feel about me?”

Smith stopped. He stopped thinking, blinking, breathing, it took him a few seconds to stutter an answer “I, u-uh, w-what?”

“You mentioned what seemed like something more than just friendship.” Trott’s eyes flicked back up to Smith’s, his eyes dark and observant.

“I… I… Trott, mate, I’m _so_ sorry, I really didn’t mean for this to happen,” Smith started babbling without even processing the words. “I tried to let go… but I couldn’t. I really didn’t want it to come between us and ruin our friendship, because when you’re happy, I get so incredibly happy too and always want to spend time with you. I don’t want you to hate me and stop our friendship… Trott I’m…” Smith’s eyes started to water. “Sorry.” He said it more to the floor than Trott.

One second he was staring down, ashamed at himself, at the cracked and unkempt pavestone, and the next he was looking at a mop of brown hair, with the warmth of another person pressed against his chest.

“Alex I’m so, so sorry.” Trott’s voice was muffled in Smith’s jacket. “I knew I'd be hurting you, but I didn't realise how much. I'm so sorry, Smith. And you are right; I have been ignoring you, I have been cruel to you, and I shouldn't. I'm in the wrong, and I shouldn't have done this. And yeah, I have changed, I've become insensitive to others because of my own pain. I've been angry at myself and I've taken it out on you. I'm so, so sorry." He shook his head into Smith's chest.

“So much has been happening to me, and I’ve become selfish. My emotions have been constantly conflicting with each other, and I don’t really know what’s been happening. Around the time I started to hurt you, I realised I felt something for you, too. I realise what I did was extremely idiotic, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. I also thought that there was no way for you to feel anything back, so I thought if you couldn’t love me, then you should hate me. I – I don’t know why I thought that, I guess maybe because I thought that I’d never be good enough for you? I’ve treated you like shit, and you didn’t do anything to deserve it. Smith, this won’t explain everything, and may just leave you as confused as I feel, but please forgive me. I may not deserve it, but I need it. I’m sorry.”

That hit Smith, hard.

“… What?”

“I know, I didn’t explain it well, because it’s more of a feeling than a thought. I… Sorry. I’ve just become really fucked up.”

Smith heard the anguish thick in Trott’s voice, and it caused distress within him. How could such a beautiful person feel this way?

Smith held Trott’s face in his hands and guided his face away from his chest to look at him. Smith saw torment behind those gorgeous brown eyes.

“Trott, I don’t know what’s happened, but you’re not fucked up. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, even if you did do that to me. But now I know even a little of what’s been going on with you, of course I’d forgive you. It wasn’t even your fault. Those three overused words cannot explain how I feel for you, and I hate the fact you feel so negatively about yourself. I will do whatever I can to have you see differently, because you mean everything to me. If there’s anything I can do, I will. Because I love you, Trott.”

Trott looked so helpless, but so relieved at what Smith had said. Tears stung at Trott’s eyes, and Smith tentatively leaned down. Smith’s eyes were questioning, asking for consent. Trott just squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his face forward.

Smith was slightly startled when their lips met, but the tenderness of Trott’s movements were enough to melt Smith – and not to mention, he had been waiting for this for a _hell_ of a long time.

Smith’s shoulder’s hunched as they kissed, and Trott’s hands came up to wrap around Smith’s neck. They both clutched on to each other as if refusing to ever let go. Both had gone through something dreadful, both had longed for the other but refused to allow themselves to accept what they deemed unacceptable, unobtainable.

The kiss was sweet, tender, everything Smith wished it would be. It was full of unspoken promises he knew Trott would keep. His chest blossomed with an intense heat and all of Smith’s emotions started crashing down on him, and Smith swore he felt fireworks. Well, that was probably wasn’t far from the truth seeing as it was New Years.

Once the two separated, they both shared the same loving look in their eyes as they embraced each other in the cold unfamiliar garden. Smith knew they both had a way to go before everything would be settled, but as for now they were content like this.

“I love you, Smith. And I mean that. Thank you for not deserting me, even if I hurt you. This all… You mean so much to me.”

“Trott, I’m never going to give up on you, and we’re going to get through this. Even if we don’t, I’ll love you all the same.”

Trott’s eyes glistened with newly-formed tears, and this caused Smith’s heart to throb.

Feeling words were now unnecessary, he walked Trott over to the actually dry grass of the garden and as he sat down motioned for Trott to do the same. They both sat side by side, arms circling the other’s torso, and Trott rested his head against Smith’s shoulder. Smith closed his eyes and listened to the continuation of fireworks, his side warm with Trott’s body plastered against him. Smith finally felt completed.

The flashes of colour passed through his eyelids, and Smith felt something on his face that he’d almost forgotten how to do.

He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first (internet published) work, so if I've confused anyone (there was a lot of feelings in this that may only make sense to me) then I’ll be sure to answer questions :)


End file.
